True Con Fessions
by Ultracape
Summary: Neal's is called upon to test his concepts of truth, justice and the American Way. There is just one small problem.


It hurt where the straps ran under his arms and across the chest and every move he made to ease the pressure against his breasts and sternum did nothing but make them chafe him more, even over the layers of cloth of his clothing.

"Neal, stop fidgeting," Peter glared at him from behind the examiner setting up the machine on top of a specially insulated wood table in a room designed to cut down on any possible vibrations that could be transmitted from other than the people inside.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Neal heard his voice hitch up as his nerves took over. "Ouch, hey watch it buddy."

The examiner stoically continued attaching leads to different parts of Neal's anatomy, especially those rich in nerve endings.

Peter just shook his head, smirking at him. "Look Neal, I told you, Hughs, told you, even Ruiz told you. I've got a ruling from the judge who sentenced you four years ago. Both the prosecutor and your lawyer from your trial will be listening to all the proceedings from the other room. Whatever you say will be sealed. Nothing you say in here will be used against you, ever. It can't. You could confess to stealing the Eiffel Tower and it wouldn't matter."

Neal's eyes shot up to Peter, "Is it missing?" He practically squeaked. "Peter I swear, I didn't do it."

"Neal, no one is accusing you."

"You're trying to trick me into confessing. But really, Peter; the Eiffel Tower? I haven't even been out of my two mile radius without you since I got out of prison, even when I didn't have the tracker on, let alone France."

The examiner turned and appealed to Peter, "Agent Burke, please do something, we haven't got all day."

"Besides, what would I do with the Eiffel Tower? I couldn't move it. I couldn't hide it. I couldn't sell it. It would destroy the view from my loft at June's."

"Neal, calm down. It's not missing, Okay. It's still in Paris."

"Then why did you say it was stolen."

Peter sought aid from the heavens but there was nothing when he looked up but the ceiling.

The examiner adjusting the knobs on the machine shot an exasperated look at Peter, "If he doesn't calm down so that I can get some base readings this isn't going to work."

Neal almost looked relieved, "See, I can go, it's not going to work," his hands flew to the restraints just before Peter grabbed his wrists and pushed them away from the straps.

"Look Neal, I understand that lying is a defense mechanism for you and telling the truth about your life goes against a life lived like that but you have to do this. It's a condition of you're parole that you have to help us in our investigations and prosecutions."

"But I've done that."

"Yes you have," Peter nodded releasing Neal's wrists. "And you've done well and if you help with this, you'll do even better. Dr. Frank' new polygraph machine is supposed to be unbeatable and if his clinical trials work, it will allow us to use the technology to interrogate suspects and use the results in court."

Neal looked first at Peter, then at the machine and finally at Dr. Frank, who was looking more like his name was missing an N. Stein.

"Just answer the questions the examiner asks and I'll check it against the records we have of you. If you beat the machine, it's back to the drawing board. If you don't then you will have helped to take a lot of bad guys off the street."

"And nothing I say, truth or lie, will be held against me, ever?"

"Absolutely nothing except for the conviction already on the record. You can even confess to things we don't suspect and we will never be able to use it against you. You can start with a totally clean slate once your parole is up."

"How were you able to get this deal for me? Why?"

Peter kneeled down so he could look Neal in the eyes. "You've helped us. You've never purposely done anyone any physical harm. You have risked your life just so others would not get hurt and while you still seem to have trouble figuring out right from wrong when it comes to matters of ownership; I know you've got my back."

"You've got my back on this?"

"Always."

Neal took a deep breath realizing there was really no way out of this. Consciously relaxing as much as he could he closed his eyes. "Okay, let 'er rip."

"Finally," the examiner said as he sat down behind the machine and turned on the recording mechanism.

"Okay, these first questions will establish your baseline readings. I want you to tell the truth for the first question and lie for the second. Okay?

"Sure."

"What is your name?"

Neal's eyes popped open, nervously looking from one man to the other. "Ah, umm, well, what do you mean exactly when you say 'name.'?

Peter put his fingers to his temples and rubbed his developing headache. "It's going to be a long day."


End file.
